


A Carpathian Enigma

by sailorgreywolf



Series: Rarepair Week Winter 2018 [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 16:32:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17287559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorgreywolf/pseuds/sailorgreywolf
Summary: A Vampire AU. Gilbert is an imperial officer investigating disappearances in a Transylvanian village.





	A Carpathian Enigma

Gilbert Beilschmidt, colonel of the imperial army, was sitting in a train climbing into the Carpathian Mountains, with a series of reports in his bag. This was a mission from the Empire’s government and he was duty bound to look into this case, but he was not enthusiastic about this. 

He was an officer of the royal army, and investigating disappearances in little remote towns was not his expertise. But, the government had been getting consistently more worried reports from the governor of the region. The people claimed that there was some undead creature among them, slowly killing off people in the village. 

In most cases, this would have been dismissed as superstitious nonsense. But, they suspected that something was going on behind the reports that wasn’t being said. The theory that had been suggested in the reports was that there was a serial killer at large, hiding behind the beliefs of the population. It was Gilbert’s duty to confirm that nothing of the sort was happening, or if it was the spree of killings that the empire believed it was, put an end to it.

It was a simple mission, and it should not take long. Gilbert fully expected that neither he nor his soldiers would find anything of note in their first week and would chalk the whole thing up to superstition and rumors. 

He put aside his report, loosened the collar of his uniform and looked out at the quickly setting sun. Slowly, he felt tiredness encroaching on his mind. His eyes slowly closed with the parting thought that he could deal with this easily when they arrived.

After a long train ride and a trek through the mountains, he and his small group of soldiers finally reached the village in the heart of rural Romania. Gilbert was already exhausted, but duty did not wait on his pleasure or his time. He wasted no time in instructing his soldiers to collect accounts of what was going on. Once he had a full array of the problem, he knew he would be able to find the root of it. If there was one killer, then all the victims would have some connection to him.

Gilbert was standing at the window of the manor house he and his soldiers were occupying, surveying the town from a distance. It was a quaint place. Like a cluster of little wooden houses that had chosen a spot at the foot of a mountain to congregate.

It was all overshadowed by a imposing castle on the hill. It was small in comparison to the imperial castles of the capital, but the high spires did give it the appearance of some dark shape watching the little people below. It was no wonder that superstition ran rampant with a gothic monstrosity like that casting its constant shadow. 

Gilbert looked down at the people who were going about their business below. They were charmingly provincial in their traditional clothing. One never got to see scenes like this anywhere else in the empire. Gilbert wished he were here just to appreciate the local color, but there was serious business at hand, and he was only waiting for the news to be returned  to him.

There was the sound of a knock at the door and Gilbert turned to see his subordinate entering the room. Gilbert said, “What have you found?” 

The man cleared his throat like he did not really want to read the report in his hands. But, discipline won out and he said, “Everyone tells the same story. The Count has been practicing black magic and the people suspect he is the reason for all of the disappearances. They call him a strigoi.”   
That was surprisingly straightforward, as Gilbert hoped it would be. He said, “Then we only need to confront him.” 

The soldier cleared his throat again, and said, “There is something else.” He paused again, like he knew how absurd the next words would sound. Gilbert raised one impatient brow. He usually expected better conduct from his soldiers.   
Finally, the words came out, “The Count was declared dead by a doctor a month ago.”

Gilbert said, trying and failing to see why it was unusual for towns people to blame a dead noble, “Then he must not be a suspect.” The soldier’s face was turning consistently redder as he attempted to speak.   
He managed to say, his vocal cords sounding like they resented every word, “The Count is still in residence at his castle, and no one can explain how he cheated death. Not rationally at least.”

That was enough to pique Gilbert’s curiosity. It could be that no disappearances were happening, and people were scared by a medical abnormality. But, there was still the possibility that the Count was cultivating the image to hide very real murders. There was only one way to know for certain. Gilbert said in the tone that he reserved for orders, “Come with me. We are going to go see him.”

* * *

The castle looked no less foreboding once inside its courtyard. Even for the type of castle, it was particularly dark and hideous. 

Once they reached the door, it was opened by a servant who looked at them like this had been expected all day and they were annoyingly late. Gilbert ignored him and walked into the front hall. The servant closed the door heavily behind them, and then said, “The Count has been waiting for you. Follow me.” 

He said nothing else, but began to walk away. Though there was nothing particularly strange about the encounter, but Gilbert felt like something was off. The air itself felt stale. 

The servant led them to a large room with rather elaborate tapestries on every all. The man they sought was sitting in a large carved chair facing the door. He was arrayed in furs and a hat that must have been a symbol of local authority. He looked very much alive, and he was far younger than Gilbert was expecting. There was a glow of vitality about him, though his smile was made of pure mischief. 

Gilbert took the momentary silence as a chance to take his advantage, “Count Popescu, we are here to investigate disappearances in this village. We will need your cooperation.”

He didn’t feel the need to make any threats or accusations. If anything, the treatment so far suggested that he was perfectly ready to cooperate. The Count chuckled and then said, “You are here on the basis of peasant whispers? I would think the imperial government has more to with their time.” 

Gilbert had to be careful with his response, because he did agree with that assessment. But, he was not here to express his own opinion. He said, even as only a military man could be, “There have been disappearances and that cannot be ignored.”

The man seemed completely unruffled, which was not convincing of his innocence. The Count rose from his chair and said to his servant, “You, bring some wine. I don’t want our guests to feel neglected.” 

As the servant left the room, he turned back to Gilbert and said, flashing a smile, “You are a man of rationality and science. Do you believe that I rose from the dead and I am preying on them?” 

The servant came back into the room with a pair of glasses of wine in his hand. He walked to the Count, who took the glasses in his hands and then offered one first to Gilbert. It did not seem like the best idea to drink while he was working on a case, but it seemed impolite to refuse. As he took the glass, their hands brushed against each other and the Count looked straight at him.

He took a long drink while his soldier took the other glass. That also gave him a moment to think of a response to this eccentric noble. He said, “What is your explanation then?”   
With another smooth smile and a sweep of his hand, the man said, “Peasants come and go all the time. The only reason anyone cares is that a doctor made the mistake of telling everyone I was dead when I was just sick.” 

Gilbert was not sure that he believed that at all, since the empire would not have cared if the disappearances were normal. But the explanation of the false death report was convincing enough. 

He couldn’t help but be distracted by the way the man moved. There was something about it that was entrancing, almost sexual. It was causing an uncomfortable heat to rise under his collar. There was an unbidden, intrusive thought that he would like to hold the man’s slim waist and kiss him. 

Gilbert pushed the thought as far out of his mind as he could. He said, military composure perfectly intact, “Until further notice, you are a suspect. If I find damning evidence, I will be back, and it will not be so cordial.”   
The Count just gave him another mischievous smile and said, “You are always welcome here.” 

* * *

Gilbert was laying awake with the conversation playing over and over again in his head. There was something odd about that man, and it was pulling him in. He thought of that light touch of their hands, of the smooth words, and of the feeling when their eyes met.

It was so strange for him to be distracted from his duty by something like this, but he longed to know more. He felt like he would never sleep until he figured out what was going on. He had to have another talk with that Count, and get some answers this time.

He got out of bed and pulled on his uniform. There was no better moment than now. He had no illusions that he was going to sleep. The thought would not leave him alone.

The rational part of his mind only questioned this course of action when he was already at the door, and at that point it was too late to turn back. He expected to have to knock on the door this time, given the late hour. 

But as he raised his hand to knock, the door was thrown open again. This time, it was the Count himself. Gone were the furs or the jewelry. Instead, he was wearing a shirt that was open to reveal most of his chest.

Gilbert felt that same incredible attraction surge through his body. He wanted the man in front of him so badly. The Count smiled, revealing two suspiciously sharp fangs that Gilbert could have sworn were not there before. He said, “Come here, handsome.” 

Given normal circumstances, Gilbert would have objected, but he couldn’t find the will to. He stepped over the threshold and pulled the Count into his arms. The man whispered in his ear, “My name is Vladimir. You do not have to think of me by my title.” 

Then, he pressed his lips against Gilbert’s. The touch intensified the need already burning through the albino’s body, and he had to deepen it. He felt one of those fangs brush against his lip, sharp enough to cut skin. Vladimir broke the kiss only long enough to say, “I knew you would come back so soon.”  
Gilbert took a heavy breath and finally managed to say, “How?”

The little laugh he got in response told him that this was amusing. The response came again in his ear, “Because I told you to.” He brushed his hand against the side of Gilbert’s face like he was trying to convey that he could reach someone’s mind that easily. He added, “I told you in here. While you thought you were in control.”

Gilbert’s confusion showed on his face, and Vladimir said, his tone so soothing it was impossible to feel any discomfort, “Come with me, and I will explain everything to you.” 

He took the albino’s hand and led him into a room and led him to a couch. They never broke skin contact, and Gilbert found himself sitting on a couch with the other man in his lap.

They kissed again, deeply, and this time he did feel a scratch on his lip, drawing a little line of blood. Vladimir held his lower lip between his teeth before finally letting go. 

There was too much rushing through Gilbert’s mind to put together questions, even though he had so many. But, it became unnecessary to ask when Vladimir said, “My secret is that black magic is real, and I found a way to beat death. All I need is the energy of the living.” 

Gilbert should have been shocked. He was well aware of how strange it was, but he couldn’t muster the feeling. Vladimir’s hand was trailing down Gilbert’s chest, undoing the buttons on his uniform. He continued talking, occasionally playing soft kisses on Gilbert’s neck, “I thought those peasants were enough, but then I felt your energy. There is something different about the way you feel. I need to taste it.” 

He placed his lips on the albino’s neck, and slowly sunk his fangs in. Gilbert was expecting pain, but it was dwarfed by the feeling of relief coming from the thoughts that he was almost certain were not all his. He let out a low groan at the feeling. 

In the back of his mind, he was coming to the terrible realization that all of the stories were true, and he had fallen into this so easily. But, this didn’t feel wrong. 

Gilbert said, trying and failing to find some footing, “And what do you want from me?” 

Vladimir pulled back from his throat, and almost daintily wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with his finger. He almost purred, “You are going to write a report and assure the government that nothing is wrong. Then you are going to come back to me. You can do that, can’t you?”

Gilbert could only come up with one answer, and he wasn’t certain if it was his will at all. He said, “Yes, I will.”


End file.
